Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
21
QUINTON
It’s been a week since Aspen was released from medical, and I still haven’t gone to see her. I keep telling myself it’s because I need her to be healthy for what I have planned for her. I can’t fuck her if she’s passed out, but deep down, I know that’s not the reason. I don’t care if she is half-dead; I’d still enjoy fucking her… maybe even more so.
No, the real reason I’ve stayed away is that Ren is right. I’m getting too close. I shouldn’t care if her room is clean or if she is hungry or cold. I shouldn’t care about anything, and the fact that I do has a deep sense of guilt settling in my bones. She is supposed to be the enemy, and caring for her in any form is like betraying my family.
I should cut all ties, forget our deal, and let her fend for herself, but my body is winning over my mind. Because my body craves her, craves the control and the sense of peace it gives me.
“What group are you in?” Ren’s voice drags me from my thoughts.
“Huh?” What group?
“The range. I’m in group six, going to the range this week.”
“Oh, yeah. Me too. That’s this week?”
“Jesus, dude. Where is your mind? Yes, weapons training starts today. Not like we need it. Want to skip?”
“Nah, I wouldn’t mind firing off some rounds. Plus, depending on what kind of training they’ll do, it will be kind of fun. It’s not like we have anything better to do.”
“True. Well, let’s go then.” Ren gets to his feet.
“It starts now?”
Ren gives me a look like he is questioning my sanity. “If I hadn’t said something, would you just have gone to class in an hour?”
“Pretty much, yes.” I’m a little surprised myself. I normally like to have a plan and be prepared, but weapons training simply slipped my mind, which only solidifies my thoughts on staying away from Aspen.
We leave the room and take the elevator up to D level. I’ve only been on this level once to get familiar with my surroundings. To my surprise, it looks like Ren has been here as well. We walk down the white corridor to the gun range. When we walk inside, three people are already there; the instructor, Matteo, and one student I don’t know.
Matteo nods at us, and acid churns in my stomach. Every time I see him, I dislike him a little bit more. Instead of nodding back, I ignore him, pretending he isn’t there at all.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I imagine them wrapping around his throat while we watch students slowly pile into the room. Matteo is talking to the guy I don’t know. But his eyes glance over at me sporadically, as if to make sure I won’t attack him.
The instructor is someone I also don’t know yet. He is tall and bulky with short dirty blond hair and an unkempt beard that looks like he just spent six months being homeless.
Ren is leaning against the wall casually, but I know he can tell I’m irritated. Forcing my eyes away from Matteo, I do a quick count of the people in the room. We’re at fourteen now, which means we’re missing one student. Each group should be fifteen. The thought has barely left my mind when the door opens, and the last person walks in.
Aspen.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quietly for being late, her eyes trained on the ground. She hasn’t seen me yet, and when she does look up, her gaze is trained on Matteo, who gawks at her like a hungry dog looks at a bone.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin.” The instructor raises his voice, silencing all the chatter in the room. “I’m Michael Brooks. You can call me Mike. Just kidding, if you call me Mike, I will shoot you in the leg. You will call me Brooks. If you call me Mr. Brooks, I will also shoot you in the leg…”
Brooks continues talking, but my attention is focused on the blond girl with her back pressed against the door she just came through. When I left medical, she was so pale. Color has returned to her face, but she is still too skinny to look healthy. Her sweater hangs off one of her shoulders, showing off her pronounced collarbone and thin neck. Her jeans are baggy, looking like they are about to fall off her hips.
“You are about to walk into the only room in this school where weapons are allowed.” Brooks’s voice breaks through again. “You each will find a stand with three weapons. They are not loaded yet, but the ammunition for each is on the bottom shelf on your stand. Only load one gun at a time, stay in your booth, and don’t shoot at each other. Got it?”